Thy Minjonet
by Ovidae
Summary: A near 16 year old Sasuke moves from Japan to halfway across the world for his father's job. He hates it until a blue-haired girl named Hyuuga Hinata shows him the woes and the ways of the odd city with her eccentric group of friends. AU highschool fic. SasukexHinata. Sasuhina.
1. Prologue

**Thy Minjonet**

* * *

Prologue

"27 percent of people leave without saying goodbye to me, I've calculated," A boy named Kabuto told me one day in 2013.

Surprisingly, I didn't even know he could do the math.

Why would someone say something so goddamned weird in grade five to an eleven-year-old child? It was stupid. I couldn't decide whether or not the poignancy of that quote bordered on happy or sad.

Now, as I get older, I think maybe leaving without saying goodbye is a good thing. Fewer hearts are broken and fewer people are hurt.

I'll ask him about it, sooner or later.

We have the whole summer ahead of us. It's just the second of July. School ends on the twentieth.

Grade nine was hell but I think that the month break we get when the year ends is just stupid. Every subject in school gave me a mountain of homework. I'm not Itachi, so I'm not ecstatic about this. He's going to grade twelve and I'm sure fifteen universities offered scholarships or places at their prestigious schools.

He does drink like a university student, though.

But as my mother and father discuss the benefits of mortgages and midlife crises of something called Calgary, we sit on, pseudo-happy, at the dinner table. My brother even decided to drop by for once but he doesn't talk to me. I wish he did.

Dad picks up the rice bowl and shovels its contents into his personal ceramic bowl. I see the flash of his silver sleeve buttons. He's wearing a suit. My mother's wearing a fancy dress covered by an apron. My brother wears his soccer jersey.

I'm wearing a scowl.

There are three things wrong with this sitcom-looking scene; my mother and father aren't arguing, my brother is at the dinner table for once and it's only six p.m. My mom actually cooked the udon noodles. Shocker. They taste like wet twine rope in steaming water. I could have gotten something better for under ten dollars at Yoshinoya!

The floor is clean and shiny, and I fiddle with my chopsticks. The maids flit about, trying to please my father. Our house is already spotless, why add a thin veneer of bleach and lemon-scented soap?

The house does look emptier.

My father is an unforgiving businessman in the contradicting Japan. Maybe that's why I'm good with numbers because he loves numbers. He's also working all the time, which is nothing rare in this cracked-out society. It's all LSD lights and cram school and people dying from exhaustion in their small, pathetic cubicles.

Dad never takes sick days off and he will die if he continues at this half-baked steam-roller pace. The sadder thing is I think he wants to go out like that. I would die before I get an office job. I haven't the balls to tell him I don't want to end up like him or work in his company.

"Sasuke, Itachi dear," says Mom.

I look up at the sound of my name, trying not to seem too skeptical at her pitch. The confusion surrounding my mother's ever-cheery tone is nothing new.

My father's suit makes a papery sound as he moves. His hair is gelled back and he has a five-o'clock shadow on his chin.

"Boys, we got you both a car," Dad says sternly without looking at us.

My mom nods. "A car!"

There's a weird smile in her voice.

I stop slouching and Itachi exchanges a look with me. Though a self-made millionaire, Dad was adamant about us paying for everything since we aren't kids anymore. It made for all of my shirts five dollars at the strip of stores outside of our affluent neighborhood, Omotesando.

Now he gets us a car.

My mouth tastes like sandpaper and the aftertaste of chicken broth.

"Both of us?" Itachi's toneless voice sounds out.

"Yes, Itachi," Dad says tersely. He doesn't like repeating himself.

Call me a cynic but there's a catch. There always has to be a catch. It's like when a girl says she'll have sex with you but you watch five cycles of America's Next Top Model or Gossip- really any other westerner crap.

I send a questioning side-glance to Itachi. My brother is an excellent student, a star soccer player, and the favorite son. The only time my father gave compliments was when Itachi did something great. Did Itachi get one-hundred percent on an exam? Did one of his teachers from university prep classes recommend him for something?

Otherwise, this is as rare as finding a wallet with several million dollar bills.

Moving slowly, Itachi stands up and I follow suit, chucking my chopsticks to the side.

I want to see this unicorn with metal parts. If I'm getting something unearned, I'd verse myself in this luck as soon as possible. I promise to use it until it gets taken away.

Mom is confused by our actions. "Ano, where are you guys going?"

We halt before we're fully able to pass the table full of side-dishes and the awful udon noodles. The farther away from them, the better. There's tea perfuming my clothes and sweets that leave the glaze on my fingers.

"Aren't we allowed to see what type of car it is?" I ask since Itachi just narrows his eyes.

Dad shakes his head. "No, the car is in Britannia, Calgary,"

I blink four times. Why would the car be in… Call-Gary? A mighty odd place to put a car when cars belong on the winding roads of Iroha-zaka.

"Anyway, what the hell is Calgary?" I ask.

Dad stares at me, unimpressed. "Language, Sasuke," he scolds.

I roll my eyes. I curse like a sailor. Leave me be.

If he didn't use that disappointment in his tone, I would have never recognized him. Though this occasion for other kids would be festive, this is about as celebratory as a funeral.

My question hangs in the air as my parents have an inaudible argument about something. Mom eventually folds and her black eyes under her dark lashes stare at me.

"It's a beautiful, thriving city in Canada," answers Mom.

"That place. Canada... is just like America but, you know, better? With ice and igloos?" I wince.

They nod. Dad looks like he's satisfied with himself. For what, I could never know. He's quite arrogant.

Mom continues, wiping her dainty hands on her apron, a pained smile on her face. "Mayor Nenshi, who just got elected again, was voted the best mayor in the world and the Stampede is all in Canada, Calgary,"

Stampede? Nenshi? Who cares... Why is our car there?

Itachi shifts in place. "Kasan, why are you telling us this? It's foolish to put our car there since Canada is eight thousand and seventy-eight kilometers away from Japan,"

"Why do you know that?" I blurt out.

Itachi shrugs. "A question in my History class," he tells me nonchalantly. "I aced that exam,"

Of course, he did. He has a laptop for a brain. I shake my head. Who in the right mind needs to know that? Japan's stupid education system. Will I have to know it- damn, I already forgot the number? My confusion is a garden bursting into life.

I focus back on my parents. My dad points his silver chopsticks at the both of us. He is still eating like this isn't the weirdest shit in the world.

Dad looks at Mom, slurping the noodles with an enthusiasm I think he's forgotten in his youth.

"This is very good, aikata," remarks my Dad.

I grimace while my mother and father discuss and stave off of answering my question. Does he like her cooking? He's never home for dinner and he's lying about how good they are- he's slurping and stuff. Pathetic.

I want my new car and it's in fuckin' Calgary! I sink into this dazed state of confusion and I lose composure.

"Otousan, what is happening?" Itachi asks, all formal.

"We have to tell them, anata," Mom sighs.

He nods, swirling his noodles around in his bowl. "I suppose we shan't put it off for longer," he says.

Huh?

My mother seems timorous but my father smirks proudly. "We are moving to Canada, Calgary," Dad explains with emotion in his voice. "Effective immediately,"

And I know why we're here though we never had dinner together.

It's just like a terrible staff meeting with bad coffee, bad treats, and even worse bosses. Moving? To… Canada? Though my life is in here. I expected to have an unremarkable tenth grade, a fifteenth year- now we're moving to Canada.

What the hell?

And Itachi's eyes widen and my mother offers a plate of castella cake slices. "Here- let us celebrate your father's accomplishments in the Oil and Natural Gas part of the Uchiha industry! Calgary supplies for 87% of Canada's oil and natural gas producers, isn't Canada neat?"

My jaw drops and I stare at the honey-smelling sponges for cakes and back at her gleaming black hair.

I try not to feel the anger or thrill. I have a life here. I want this monotony. Though I hate this place- I love it more than I could ever like Calgary. My mom was fluent in English since she lived in the UK and we got English lessons but we're not that good. Itachi may be good but I suck! Why should I learn a new language?

It's halfway across the world and- why should we be there? Am I going to turn sixteen in some foreign country? Do tenth grade there?

"Moving will be good for our company, Japan, and our family," says Dad.

 _Moving will be good for our company,_

 _Japan,_

 _And our family._

Those words echo in my mind.

What a fucking joke. It's selfish and only for him. I didn't say anything. I should have- in such an intimate setting. I want to but I keep quiet. The final moments of silence pass and I decide it can't get worse.

To make things worse, I eat the castella.

And whoop de doo- I fucking miss Japan.

I miss the wrinkles of old people's faces, I miss the cars and the tangled streets with offbeat bars and no names. It was so hard to pack my entire life into a cardboard box. I already forget the sound of the bullet train rattling down the tracks and the scent of apples and cherry blossoms and bad coffee. I get flickers of my crush's face but I don't remember it at all.

I feel that I should have run away but I didn't. I bit my lips to avoid confrontation. With or without my approval, it would have happened… Where would I even go? Kabuto's adoptive parents hate me.

My parents' smiles suddenly seem wolfish and insincere. I try to ignore the way some maids cried at losing their jobs or how Itachi blared The Pillows, an alternative rock band and the way the house seemed emptier.

While packing, all at once, I feel the longing and hate I once had for my home country.

Apparently, this move has been a long time coming and we had everything set- the visas, the place we'd stay at and I feel like I'm chewing on a cyanide seed.

The night before I left, I smoked two cigars with Kabuto in Shimokita, dodging the musicians near a concert hall we managed to sneak into. We sat in the underpass with older buildings and younger people and drove everywhere. Then we get to the roof of a building Kabuto paid the security guard off. It was beautiful.

I refused to drink because I wanted to remember this panoramic view in the purple, blue and red of the sunset.

My other casual friends make fun of me for being so straight edged but they fuck off, because something about laughing near a chasm makes the sentiment of leaving too real.

They listen to contemporary rock music and complain about the traffic while I stare at the railway lines and office buildings. I leave after a stupid handshake with all seven of my friends because I couldn't be late for the flight.

I am not well-practiced at goodbyes. I'm a jerk. I didn't say goodbye to Kabuto and my heart's backwards because I spend all my weekdays with him.

I think I should have but I didn't. I'll hate myself for that because I think I've never felt more alone. I say I'm going for a while and he nods and claps me on the back. We got each other's numbers, though.

I don't know why I did, I hate calling. Along with the summer sun, everything gaudy and motorcycles, I hate calling.

Kabuto promised to make the phone bill on my father's tab massive by all the long distance calls during the wireless airtime. We probably started a storm.

We leave on the day after school. Two weeks later, we moved to the ice country with ice people, ice houses, and ice things though it was nearing the twentieth.

I still come back to that scene, when we were on that roof because there was an excellent vibe.

"I think I leave 73 percent of the time more," I remember telling Kabuto, whispering through the cigarette and staring at the falling skyline.

I will _hate_ Calgary.


	2. Spaghetti

**Thy** **Minjonet**

* * *

Chapter 1  
Spaghetti

There's the flood of English, French and mandarin everywhere.

The sights and sounds of English for three straight minutes were alien. Overwhelming. The signs are in English. Loud. Visually- it was so hard. No kanji. No Japanese people. It leads to mass panic bubbling in me.

No one cares about me. Mom just looks as confused as me.

Mom and Dad got separated, which was pretty funny but there was a certain gnawing feeling of being scared and alone in the airport terminal.

So many people of different ethnicities...

It was a melting pot while I stay rooted at a bank of chairs near escalators. Huge dots of backpacks, kids running around, and the scent of cafe dipped in gasoline is seen on the second floor. There are underground tunnels and sky-bridges I want to travel but Mom is scared to death and she won't release my worn sleeve.

"Sasuke! Don't you dare wander off," says Mom, bitching at me.

I roll my eyes at the implications. I'll damn well do what I want. Mom complains to the digital informational tablet that doesn't translate into Japanese. Then she harps about Dad.

"Your tousan isn't picking up his phone and where is your brother?" yells Mom in Japanese, fraught with worry- panicking in Japanese. "They were supposed to get us coffee," she continues.

As a protest in all of this English- she solely speaks in Japanese. I don't know what it means. They come back and Mom clings onto Dad with her bottom lip trembling a bit.

Everyone is busy and there are moose and people with cameras. The air smells rich and there is the red of the maple leaf.

Why do maple leaves and beavers mean so much?

Our luggage doesn't show up for a long while and I stand there, watching different caucasian men with balding skulls, women with carved in smiles and all the golf-cart-looking things.

A teenager, with white, white skin was surprising to me while having a small mic hanging from her bubblegum lips. A girl with pointed boobs, dark eyelashes, and full hips hasn't been near me- ever. I've only seen guys- men in stupid suits that were white.

Tourists were mostly older and too wide-eyed. Homogeneous Japan was what I am used to.

I have to stare- and I am a creep but still.

Her hair is so blonde and twirling, almost twisted sun rays, like she's the source of good things. It's weird- black maw hair, petite form, and slitted eyes have been the norm and here blondie is- tall, leggy and extremely bored.

I've never seen a white, girl teen. She sees me staring and I turn away. My face burning.

After that short encounter, we make it to the car with my parents and Itachi. My dad insisted to rent a car and not get a taxi- which was a mistake. The rental didn't start so we got a taxi.

Dad started arguing with the taxi man. Because obviously, Dad knew Calgary more than a born and raised Calgarian man who got behind a wheel when he was twelve years old. Pfft. _Obviously._

We turned the radio to 90.3 AMP radio. Every song sounds the same and it has a beat drop- which I can tolerate but I like the music back home. Itachi sighs every three seconds and Dad's yelling at me for opening the window.

And I decide, again, that it can't get worse.

We get to the house and it looks like a small castle in the darkness of the stars. Brittania Calgary has huge houses. The ones in Japan are crammed and they are so close together, compact. Here... There are suburbs, strobe lights and it's like it has space to breathe.

And we have a lawn and a lot of space.

Maybe we should get a dog.

There are the rectangular windows and flat roofs. The emerald grass was washed in some wetness, so it rained recently. The hallway's are luxurious like silver and gold took the form of rugs and nice things like mahogany.

My room is the smaller one, and Itachi slams the door in his cedar-smelling room. Mom sighs and everything seems shiny though we have our old stuff.

"It's already furnished," Dad said to all of us as I tap the glass table as I pass by.

Why do they buy dinning tables if we never have or eat together?

I follow the smell of food to find my mother, decked out in heels, still looking like a mess from the commute.

She looks strange beside a stove. She _usually_ never cooks and now she's doing it. And she's not wearing _slippers_ like she emphatically forced us to.

"Hi Sasuke. Got everything put away?" she asks kindly.

I nod, wordless.

The stove lights up, blue and electric. How she managed to work it is beyond me. "You got the stove working?" I say.

"All kitchens and stoves, I know the basics," she shrugs.

Dad's not here and there's extra stiffness from her blazer jacket because of her rigid stance and even stiffer shoulders. The gangly lanks of noodles looks like dull brass when I look into it, beside her.

"You know, we could just have spaghetti, right?" I comment.

"That's American."

"So?"

"What's wrong with _our_ food from _our_ country?"

"Nothing. Just... we haven't unpacked yet, why are you cooking?"

"Sasuke, I am your mother. Am I not supposed to cook for you?" she says, testy and I hate when both of my parents are testy. "We're not in Kyoto _anymore_ , alright? We're starting over."

I feel like she is telling _herself_.

"Okay. Whatever you say, Mom." I roll my eyes.

The first night, Mom makes some traditional soba noodles at the same time Dad buys burgers from some random fast food stop he got nearby.

We sit awkwardly at dinner, staring at the western culture my mother wanted us to reject when my Dad was super clear about leaving Japan.

They stare each other down while I eat the same portions of both foods. One tastes like grease and an alien country and the other tastes like noodles and home.

I wonder if my taste buds will shift or I will accustom myself to this greasiness? It's a question I face when Itachi doesn't eat at all while I eat too much.

"Don't you want to eat?" Mom asks Itachi, who's frowning softly.

Itachi shakes his head, looking at Dad. "Dad, can I go see the car?" asks Itachi.

"Yeah, Itachi, go ahead," Dad says lightly, behind the massive newspaper. "Do anything you want, son."

Itachi nods and leaves the table, bowing to Dad before leaving the room, manners impeccable.

Dad makes an impressed noise before focusing on his paper.

"The keys are in my jacket," Dad calls out.

He never lets me touch his possessions. His luxury cars. His jacket. I want to be bitter but I can't.

It's silent, my mother glaring at the sandwich and then scooping out some noodles with her long chopsticks.

I look at my chopsticks beside my crumpled up foil wrap for my burger. It tastes faintly of card board, which wasn't pleasant. Canadian food has too much salt. Too many portions. Bleh.

"Dad, can I see it too?" I ask lowly, anticipating disappointment.

"No. Finish your food," he orders, all softness gone from his voice.

"I've already eaten! And finished." I protest. He just hadn't looked at me for the past 16 years of my life. "We moved to Canada to see this car, didn't we?"

He's silent and I grind my teeth. _Asshole_!

"Maybe I should go back to Japan then. I won't be a hikikomori because of you!"

"You're exaggerating." Dad scoffs.

There's more fucking silence.

"Mom!" I look at her. "This is unfair. Why can't I see it?"

"You could go... alright," says Mom, smiling brightly.

I glare at him. Asshole. He never gives me what I want. I leave, shaking my head.

"You could be a little bit easier on Sasuke," she says quietly.

"Oh. I'm not too hard. He's a man who needs to toughen up..." Dad argues.

"You know what I'm talking about..."

"Ah, aikita, he's just mad about moving." Dad tells her dismissively.

"He's not the only one upset about moving."

"You said it was-"

In the hallway, Itachi claps me on the back. I shake my head, ignoring their argument.

"C'mon, we're seeing the car," Itachi says, shaking the dangling keys.

I nod. At least _he'll_ let me.

* * *

When we see the car, it's a blue Chevrolet Impala in the garage. It smells like gas and concrete. Cleanliness.

The car, it's boxy and large, shining in the darkness. I know I should probably get my license... It's too much and there's English that I am getting by with.

It's just after dinner when I look at Itachi. He's staring at his phone and I feel bad. We're looming at this white door that overlooks the concrete emptiness of the garage.

"Did she call?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It probably didn't get in."

"Do long distance relationships work?"

"I'll make it work," grunts Itachi.

That's not a fucking answer, I want to say but I don't. Maybe Kabuto will literally forget me. I don't want to be forgotten.

"Dude, do you think Mom and Dad are okay?" I ask wonderingly, not looking at him at all.

"She's rejecting this- language, life, and type of people and Aini isn't answering my calls," Itachi shakes his head. His eyes shine like coal when he stares at the vehicle. "This is what we left Japan for?" Itachi asks, voice bitter and loud.

He's always calm and collected, hearing him raise his voice in this Canada coldness makes me slightly worried. His eyes sets ablaze and kicks the side door four times.

The car jostles and it gets worse. He then kicks the car again and there's a huge dent. Gaping and super heavily dented.

Fuck... FUCK. Fuck.

Mom and Dad are going to fucking skin us! And Mom might cry. They're already arguing. I heard them. It's weird.

He pushes the car and I look at him. "Bro, what the fuck?! Why the hell did you do that?"

I shove him and he shoves me back.

I look at our Chevrolet Impala, reaching for it. He clasps my wrist warning in his tone. "Don't touch it. It might go off."

He graciously releases my arm. "That's not my fault, is it?" I snap and cross my arms.

Why would he do that? He needs help.

He looks amused as he stares at the black window of our car. "Do you want to go for a drive?"

"No. Fuck you!" I yell out. "What are _you_ going to do?"

He shrugs. "I'll figure it out," he tells me, nonchalant.

I crouch and stare at the bent metal. "Whatever you do or figure out, you're fucked."

This is the shit I would do, not him. There are pretty lights and cool nights that I don't mind sneaking out on. He's a good person but he's fucking torn about this breakup.

"Itachi, you can't drive without a license. You'll go to prison. It's illegal," I say.

Once again, a shrug. "This place is already a jail enough. It's the same difference."

He takes the keys and leaves for a drive and I say he's taking a shower or something when Mom asks for him. Mom lays off and I wonder if he'll come back, what he'll see or do and if he knows how to lie.

All these things drift when I try to sleep in this new place. The air is different. The cityscape is different. My parents are different and Itachi is decidedly different. All this in one day.

Will I change?

"You won't tell, will you?" I remember him asking.

I didn't.

* * *

When we get to the house, I want to say it's different from the ones I see back at home but that's wrong. It's alien. I miss Japan more than I would ever hate Japan and it takes more than a few weeks to get settled in.

The toiled seats aren't self-warming. I don't know why I'm complaining about it but I found a 200 yen in my pocket and it made me break down into wondering what I could spend the money on.

Calgary should be named a ghost town because there are no people anywhere. It's hard but there and the heat was stifling. Beautiful nature. There are vast swathes of nature. There's the iconic Calgary tower and everyone likes staring at it.

I went to center street and saw it. The Calgary tower. It wasn't even big. It wasn't nice but for some reason, I stare and stare while the 2 bus and the dotted sidewalk with blackened gum. It hurt my eyes, to see all the windows glaring in the light.

I sleep outside for a day or two but there are all the bears that never came out. I thought it would be more boring.

It's way more boring than that.

The thing I notice above all else is the lack of people rushing to get the bus and/or train in the mornings. Calgary is literally vacant and I feel like I'm frozen in time. Everything seems to be from the eighties without the technology and neon lights and robots. It's... behind. I'm falling behind too.

God, the impediment of breathing for me is difficult. It's like I'm breathing through a sock. It's so hard. When I complained, Dad said, "It's the altitude."

"Altitude?" I question.

"We're on a set of mountains, Itachi, Sasuke," Dad explained in a haughty tone. "There's less oxygen the closer you are to the atmosphere."

Or he and Mom just gave me shit lungs. And I don't know what to think. Everyone looks the same and they eat with forks! English is everywhere. I carry a dictionary in my palms, hoping I'll need some help in the pronunciation.

It doesn't smell like coffee and sadness but I feel locked in a box.

* * *

I shake my head. "Tiger fucking parents," I grumble.

My dad cares about grades the most.

They're here, at my fucking school a day early before it's officially open because they wanted to go over some things with Tsunade, which is insane. I'm the only kid who's doing this.

Well, actually, the only kid who doesn't seem to want to screw their head off with paperclips.

Some days, I want to smoke weed, have a litter of kids and just run to Fiji with my probable, hooker wife and disappoint my parents but I know that wouldn't end up great on the tabloids... Or arguably, on my conscious.

Tsunade, my principal and Mom discuss coffee plans. We stand away from them, Itachi somewhere on the third floor and I have to be handheld by Mom because she wants me to see the school with an expert guide; Tsunade.

So far, the dizzying halls look the same and I perceive that I'll get lost going to the bathroom.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

Dad eyes me in his crisp suit, shaking his head with disapproval.

"If you frown any harder, your jaw will pop off," Dad says conversationally.

 _Prick._

I scowl in his direction, my arms crossed until I realize I accidentally mimicked his fucking position and body language.

My jaw won't _do_ that! That's not possible. My jaw won't pop off but my cap for my repressed anger issues will. How would he fucking like that?

"We have to get you prepared for tomorrow and the school year. Your mother and I want you to succeed."

"You didn't _have_ to come in today, Dad," I grouch lightly. "We're the only _ones_ here."

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose, like he's trying to gage the intensity of an incoming migraine. The types I always give him.

"Sasuke, be grateful we're providing you with the best schooling in Calgary- Western Canada Highschool is one of the top schools across Canada with stellar diploma marks and high performing students," he tells me, with an even but angry tone.

"Who cares? You've taken control of my schedule. I didn't even choose any of these advanced classes."

They signed me up for classes I am not sure I am ready for without my consent and they act like I'm supposed to be grateful. Hell no!

"You need advanced classes to get into good universities."

Well, that's a long way off. That's not happening right now. Mrs. Tsunade told us it's a time to relax and they won't let me. This pressure kills me!

"You registered me for Business and Government Studies as my options when I explicitly told not to!" I argue, throwing my hands up.

He pinches his lips together. "Uchiha have always excelled in those subjects. It's our flavor of politics and you should be no different."

I stare at his authority-filled stance, his air of wealth and the shine of his leather loafers and realize I don't want what he has.

"Maybe I'm not your flavor of Uchiha and I don't want to be in this school," I admit quietly, fire in my tone.

His eyes widen a moment, shocked at what he hears then he narrows them, his mouth curling into a sneer.

"It's really not about what you want, is it now, Sasuke?" he snaps, all smarmy.

I glare at him but he gets a phone call and I shake my head. It was something about Hong Kong and stocks and importations.

I hate business.

I turn around, wanting to hit something but instead I find a guy my age, blonde, who's jaw is dropped and staring at me strangely.

We stare at each other and he audibly gulps, shifting in his spot.

"What?" I ask, small and low because I feel that way. Dad's prick voice echoes in my ear.

 _It's_ _not_ _about_ _what_ _you_ _want_ _,_ _is_ _it_ _?_

His unsettlingly bright orange pants and spiky blonde hair is a mess and this crystal necklace shines uncertainly in the school's light.

He rubs the back of his neck, awkward and avoiding my gaze. "I wasn't listening in, I just heard. You guys were kinda loud."

I stiffen.

His eyes gesture to Dad still on his phone. "Man, I'm sorry about that," he says sincerely.

"Me too," I grumble as I move away, to walk alone through these strangely large halls.

I want to call Kabuto and complain about Dad and Mom because in the whole wide world, he's the only one that gets it.


	3. Compasses

**Thy Minjonet**

* * *

-Chapter 2-  
Compasses

I go to school a little later, grade 10s have to go a day early than all the other grades. We got this package and Itachi refuses to drive me like he monopolized the car we were supposed to share... together.

The grass grows extra tall for me and I notice the sun. It's pretty out. Sort of obnoxious weather for the time I lose my freedom to become a slave to this stupid, stupid country.

The inside of this musty C-train is obviously cramped with loud, obnoxious people who don't understand the meaning of inside voices. There's the unlawful color of orange everywhere and the seats face each other, making for the second most awkward place in the world. I can't look at anything nor can I listen to my music with their voices cutting through the baseline.

"Yeah, it's one hundred percent Cambodian breastfeeding milk! It tasted good- to him, I guess?" the man says on the C-train.

Two foreigners- no actually, I am the foreigner and then the two Canadians with put-upon frowns and glasses discuss European times and it confuses me.

There are bits and pieces of conversation I understand and then there are things I don't want to get.

The C-train. It's slow and it jostled a whole lot. The mechanic voice of the announcer says, "We are now approaching Sunalta station."

What I've noticed about Calgary are the strange names that have no correlation with each other: Deerfoot, Glenmore road, Crowchild, 69th street, Memorial Drive and Sunalta. These words make no sense but the street names are more interesting than the place itself.

There's a girl- my age, pretty and always there.

We weirdly have the same I-gotta-get-outta-the-house feelings and get on the C-trains because I've seen her multiple times. She gets on at Shaganappi Point Station, just like me and stands beside me or happens to get beside me.

She's always bopping her head to some type of music I don't know.

And she's said something, today, to me. She's been looking at me, covertly and squinting at the magazine she's reading.

"The view between Sunalata and Downtown Western Kerby Station is the smoothest transition through dimensions that I've ever seen," the girl says.

I stop, curious about her words. "What?"

I unplug my earbuds though I wasn't actually listening to any music.

And God, looking into her eyes was like looking into eternity. So strange and brown. They follow me, in a strange cosmic sense and I am shocked by how much she seems to know.

Her presence... Not like a mouse but beaming... with some hint of being infinite.

"Have you noticed? I'm never going to get used to not seeing it," she says slowly.

I look at her magazine because if I stare any longer, I'll be considered a sex offender. I feel like a deer in headlights. Whatever.

Her eyes drift back to the magazine. "What am I reading, you ask?"

I didn't. She caught me looking at the strange, flopping magazine with lots of navy blue, pictures of men in suits and of course, large blocks of boring text.

My mouth tastes of bland bagels and bitter coffee just looking at the adult-oriented magazine meant for graying men in their fifties. In Japan, teen girls would read the bold and widely-distributed Vivi, Non-no or like Popteen magazine, girl shit.

She's so strange. And here she is, reading something with numbers and stock prices and Cologne adds.

"It's Business Now! My Dad always reads it and I flip through this to get to the back, where they just started adding the crossword puzzles," she blushes, leaning in like she's telling a well-kept secret that she trusts me with.

"What's your best time?" I ask.

"Seven minutes and three seconds," she gets even redder, tomato-level, now.

I widen my eyes. "Wow."

"You're the first person to have said that about my strange addiction. A-actually, it doesn't deserve a show because it's so mundane- and I'm going to shut up now..."

"Uh, sorry?"

"No. No. I appreciate it," she laughs.

She squints at my jawline and it makes me fucking nervous. I shift.

"Is there something on my face?" I ask absently.

"You're in this magazine. You must be famous," she says in a hushed tone.

"Uh, no. I'm really not. Just- uh, not."

"You're right here-" she emphatically points to the magazine. "With I assume your brother, your mother and millionaire father. What are you doing in a magazine?" she asks with a little, horse but cute voice.

Suffering. I was sufferin when we did that shoot. It was too hot, everyone made it awkward and I was basically sitting on Itachi's fucking lap and I hadn't wanted to.

"Mclean's and Business Now! wanted to uh, to promote my father's company." I say uncertainly. "Something about boosting your economy."

"Was it an honor?" she asks.

It was hot. I had makeup on, which I could never live down. It was weird- I never wanted to be broadcasted. They played the angle that Fugaku Uchiha was a family man for at and businessman second, which is preposterous considering how much he doesn't come home.

Even mom gets lonely all the time.

It's just a matter of loneliness and inward/outward appearances that Dad kept.

It was quite cool to wear that suit. That's probably the only good thing about the economy; suits and the nice ones.

"Uh, sorta?" I admit after a couple of moments of long silence.

She smiles, modest and cute, which is weird. "I'm camera shy too," she whispers, leaning in. "My best friends go to shoots all the time but I could never do it."

"Japan has photoshoots all the time. My friends had a cosplay contest and got on National News."

"You come from Japan?" she asks.

I nod. "I just moved from there."

"I can tell." she giggles, noticing my abashed expression. "How? You have a heavy accent and some words you say are in English and Japanese."

I look away, blushing. I've been working with a tutor in English for the past two months to dispel the curse of bad pronunciation.

Turns out it wasn't working.

"You... understand me?" I ask shyly.

"I'm not an ABC but I understand Japanese fairly well."

"I moved here and I went west... to Western." I look away.

She smiles a bit and covers his mouth when she laughs, which is a relief. I thought she would- I don't know, slap me and walk away. But she doesn't. To be honest, after that lame joke, I would have slapped myself but she's laughing-

And fuck, I am overthinking this.

"Western puts out scholars and doctors and lawyers but I think you have a fair chance in this industry."she says thoughtfully, tapping on her delicate chin.

"You go to Western?" I ask.

She flinches and looks down. "I know the stereotypes. Western isn't full of stuck ups and rich snobs. We're very nice."

"There are stereotypes?" I ask, shocked. Why? In Kyoto, there were a few good schools. I hoped never to encounter those who, you know, went there.

She nods, her eyes wide. "It's very hard to get into Western... If you don't live in the SW sector, then you have to write a letter with your grade average ranging in the 80's or go into something called IB."

"IB?"

"Yeah. They're like AP classes but Canadian. IB students have more work, more analyzing of topics and advanced topics they discuss. If you do all three years of IB Math then you get to skip the first year of university Math."

"Do you have to do IB?"

"No. No, no," she blushes. "I'm too dumb to be in any IB. Everyone hates IB but they want to go to Western and they pass with relatively low grades."

"Oh."

"They do act like they're better than everyone. You can't go a minute without someone bragging about their grade point average, which you can check on Home Logic, a site with your D2L login..."

At this point, her lips are moving and I have no idea what's she's saying. I can't focus. Too much beauty to focus...

We got off at 8 Street West station and she hums lightly as I walk down the platform, choking as construction goes on. The buildings are shiny and somber in Calgary, never being skyscrapers but mere glass buildings. Like odd protectors?

"Where are you going?" she asks, stopping beside me. She looks concerned, her slanted eyes kind of squinted and I never noticed how long her eyelashes were.

"To Western," I say cautiously. "Why?"

"You're going towards the 6th street station. It's not that way... In that general direction." she laughs lightly.

"How do you know where Western is?" I ask, defensive.

"My brother goes there and I also go to Western," she smiles. "It's quite easy to find if you go-"

She points to around the corner, the direction she's going-

" -that way." she finishes.

"Well- I'm going to take a chance and go that way."

I trudge away. She can't tell me what to do. My cheeks are getting red and she's looking at me like I'm some dunce... Why can't I talk to girls? Jesus.

Whenever I am around one, my mind short-circuits. I look over my shoulder, just to get one snapshot of her and she's still there, watching me.

We make sudden eye-contact and I almost run into a stupid ATM that's there. She waits, waving me off and laughing lightly.

"See you? Maybe. Probably not." she trills, turning away.

"What was that?" I snap.

"N-nothing!" she says loudly.

People look at us, under the glass ceilings and beside benches and staircases.

"Tell you what, I won't get lost. If I don't get lost- I'll owe you something!" I say.

She steps back, cheeks red. "You mustn't-"

"No. I'm not going to get lost and you won't get anything."

"Alright." she sighs. She walks away before saying, "I would have walked with you but I hope you are on time. Mrs. Tsunade can be harsh on those who are late."

I stand tall, looking at her sundress flounce in the morning heat. And it's the epitome of flirtation in cloth. I look away. Snap out of it! She's weird and you could never date her because you're so fucking awkward.

I walk forward, shaking my head. I stare at the stained pavement, chipping and trimmed as a beauty pageant's nails.

I have to stop because of my pulse hammering in my ear, intensifying this awful feeling of thrumming energy. Why does my heart move like this? It's dancing.

I fucking hate dancing.

* * *

I got lost. When I got to homeroom, room 288 that took me a while to find, I pass it and walk back. This hallway jungle makes me freak out.

And I happen to find my teacher- walking out of the room at the same time I pass him. He stands there for two minutes, as I diligently give suggestions for punishments and apologize for being late. I know what being late meant in Japan. It must be worse here. I hate it but I bow to him as I plead for forgiveness.

His glasses glint under his curly black hair. He wears a button up T-shirt and colored pants. With our uniforms, I say that if you wore anything that wasn't included in the handbook, you would probably be suspended or ridiculed in front of your peers for all of eternity.

And he's smiling. You don't see teachers with that...

Mr. Steiner looks at me, weirdly. "What are you doing?"

I awkwardly stand straight and dust off my jeans. "I am apologizing for being late, Mr. Steiner-san."

"Huh? 'San'? What's that?" Mr. Steiner asks.

What's wrong with him? "I'm showing respect, Steiner-san. Don't you want to send me to the office? Scold me for a couple of hours?" I ask, prepared for the consequences.

"What?"

"What?" I ask. "Isn't that what you do in Canada? It's the same for Canadians too?"

"You're a new student, in high school for the first day. I'm sure it's excusable. It's a maze and a belly of raw emotions, isn't it? All these hallways look the same anyway, don't they?"

I nod, kind of embarrassed. They really do. I've never met a teacher not ready to yell at me for the most minor of infractions.

"Tell you what, Canada is different. I'm sure Japan is different in terms of... curriculum, class, culture, and language."

"Why?" I ask. "Isn't this place strict?"

"School doesn't have to be a prison..." he starts.

That's bad. What about the kids doing wild stuff? How do people succeed?

"Compared to most other places- not really. You have the freedom to do what you want and people most choose what is right," Mr. Steiner laughs. "Most of the time."

I frown. "No... strictness..."

"Well, for one, we don't hand out detention here and if you're late, it doesn't really matter. You're really impacting your learning, which is your responsibility. However, it's your first day and Western is the biggest school in Calgary. Hence, I'm not angry."

"Not at all?"

"Not one bit." Mr. Steiner smiles and that's odd. Again. He looks at me expectingly, like he's waiting. "Your name is..."

"Uchiha Sasuke, sir."

Mr. Steiner laughs. "Sir? No one has called me sir, ever. You may very well be my favorite student."

Itachi's been the teacher's favorite for... since I could remember. All my teachers were imposing women and men... With craggy noses. It's almost disorienting just how much those words made me feel... happy? I don't feel like a foot anymore.

"Alright. Get inside and meet your peers," Mr. Steiner says. "I'll come back and give you a rundown of the school's policies, dress code and oh, you missed the tour. Let someone escort you around, find someone capable."

I nod. Find someone capable. Who could that be?

And I walk inside. It isn't pure silence. People are acting like they know each other and they seem happy. There are long brown tables- lab tables with shining metal sinks and long-nosed taps. Phones, teenager's sleeves, backpacks and lots of dark booklets- handbooks with a hawk and the Western logo plopped right on it.

Then I see her and I see the spot beside her. A magnet, God, she's a fucking magnet for some reason. T-that spot- I don't think it's for me. For some reason, she looks up and my eyes meet hers, strangely.

I lose confidence because- I know, that spot beside her is probably not for me. And I am super stupid. Like why didn't I just go with her? I have no idea why I didn't.

I walk to the other side of the classroom, avoiding her gaze. I hesitate for a moment. I should speak to her, clear up any preconceived notions she may have cultivated about me.

My heart pounds and I try my best not to freak out in place as I approach her. She's minding her own business and I want to slip in, all cool and smooth but my foot collides with a loud-as stool and it nearly flops over.

My foot burns and it takes all that I have not to fucking cry out. That fucking hurts!

"Are you alright?" she asks, wide eyes roaming me.

I nod, contrived. I am not going to admit weakness. I won't. But fuck! That hurt.

She notices me kind of keeling and she pats the spot beside her. The stool. "You should sit down..." she smiles.

Me? Seriously. Me.

I look around then shove my hands in my pockets. "Beside you?" I ask quietly. "Y-you sure about that?"

"Yes," she nods. "It's not a Rubix cube. Come, come."

I look around, noticing some of the people around me. "Me?"

"Yes, silly," she laughs.

I clear my throat and look away. Why is she approaching me?

She comes over, leading me by the wrist. She sits me down and gets a compass out. All her books are sprawled out, she has this coffee nearby and there are trinkets. I try not to look at her, it's weird how kind she's being.

Uh. The stool is kind of- cold and I'm sitting by her, near the back near the window and I like can't look at her.

She drinks her coffee and her breath smells so impossibly nutty...

"So, why'd you get lost?" the girl asks, her laughs just as bouncy as those strange curls.

I look over at her and realize how close her face is. I look away and focus on the cracked counter. "Calgary's hard to navigate."

"It is." she points to her bracelet. It's a charm bracelet with the Effie tower or whatever.

"Have you gone?" I ask, pointing to it.

"To France... No. My father visits all the time. I've never went camping or on a plane. I'm afraid of flying but camping. I want that."

"Camping?" I wince.

I mean, Kabuto and I would stay in the woods. Sometimes, I would be out for days, just hoping that neither the cops or Itachi would find me. It never worked but I liked being in that sincere solitude.

But my family never went camping. It was like an odd American trope that I hated.

"Plus, who wants to be in a tent with your family? And my dad can't survive two days without an espresso maker... or a fax machine..." I grumble. "It's sort of pathetic."

"You can't get any more lost... more than you already were." she teases.

I give her a sharp look but she just laughs it off.

She continues... giggles here and there. "There are bike paths everywhere... You'll get lost. You know that everyone goes to Banff or Lake Louise."

"What's Lake Louise?" I wince.

"Only the prettiest place in Alberta. My family is a family of Olympians and skiers. My sister was too young to be in the Olympics..."

"Do you play a sport?"

"Uh. No... Not really. I'm bad at it."

"It?"

"Sports. School... Life." she coughs and looks down. "And you?"

"My brother is a very good soccer player... He's good at getting around on his feet. Unlike me." I scratch the back of my neck.

Why did I say that? Fuckity fucken fuck. She laughs, again and I calm down. Momentarily.

"I don't need it," she slides over the compass. "I bought it."

I push it back and we do this odd game of push and shove and take and give before she stares at it defiantly.

I shake my head, watching it in between us on the midly warm table. "Uh- you can't give me something. That means I owe you something. Like a huge gift of some sort."

I don't want a gift a gift. I just want a name. Her name. I look over at her. That makes my heart do some odd backflip. I turn away.

"You can't go through life by keeping score. Owing s-someone." she shakes her head.

"Eventually, I'll settle it."

"Use the compass to not get lost." she nods and fiddles with her bracelet.

I look at the compass. It's round, compact and kind of cheap- I mean ancient looking. I open it, which takes a moment to figure out. It looks normal but the needle is meant to point to North. It instead points to the girl.

And for some reason, it makes it a million dollars worth.

"It's a cheap device that only points to metallic things." she removes her bracelet and waves it around.

The needle easily points to her, instead of south, north, east or west... The thing jostled just to follow her.

She looks down at the compass before putting her bracelet on. "If you have that, you'll always find my whereabouts in a way or another."

Isn't that kind of creepy? My heat pool in my cheeks. Uh... Thanks? What do I- do with it?

"From now on, you'll find me as a friend. Anytime." she gets a marker- a purple sharpie with a sharp tip and leans over.

Her arm, has the strange dots of healed scars. I wonder why.

The sharpie sounds scratchy against the cheap metal and I see what she pens in.

 _ **POINTS**_

She smudges that away and there's purple on her thumb, like a bruise. Instead, she restarts with;

 _ **TO**_  
 _ **HYUUGA**_  
 _ **HINATA.**_  
 _ **4/9/2017**_

 _Hyyuga Hinata._

Hyuuga's oddly bold and friendly for someone I've met. Is this real? It feels like the start of a crappy porno or something. I stare at the quickly drying words and the snap of putting the cap back on astonishes me. What the hell?

I look at the shiny purple then the brown of her eyes then at the red of her lips and the white of her teeth.

"What?" Hyuuga asks after a while of me looking at her.

At different angles her name shines differently. "You are one of the strangest people I've ever met."

"Oh. I'm s-sorry." Hyuuga looks away, an odd current in her voice.

Did I offend her?

"No. No. That's good." I look forward. Probably the strangest things in life are the best. "Hyuuga, you're probably a good thing."

Hyuuga looks at me and eats rice. A bento box with sushi and chopsticks. It smells of imitation crab and salty rice. I am afraid to look at her too much.

"What?" Hyuuga asks, cracking her chopsticks.

"Oh. I thought you guys ate bread or something, not rice..." I shrug. "Americans... eat bread?"

"We are not americans. I'dhate to be associated with that America." Hyuuga'sly sweet disposition returns. "Everyone everywhere eats rice."

"Seriously?" I ask. That's so weird. "I thought Canadians eat like hockey pucks and said 'eh' all the time."

"No one says 'eh'. Don't you have to put on slippers right now?" she asks, teasing me a bit.

I look over and try not to scoff. No. I hated slippers. Only my mom wore them and they got too worn out.

I cough and look away. "Yeah... perhaps."

After a moment of staring at her bento box, I smile a bit.

I watch her, waiting for something because she makes nervous eye contact with me. Shifting and dodging for the first time. She seems confident but she's red now.

"What are you waiting for? Eat." I shrug.

She looks at the Bento box then at my face and back to her fragrant food. "I- I've only eaten with chopsticks once. At a ceremony. At my step mother's house. We eat with forks." she hides her face.

Forks are too cold and short for me. Bleh. If I wanted to feel exotic, I'd eat with a fork and regret my hand cramps.

That makes me laugh. "Why use them now, in front of me?"

She put down her chopsticks with a soft clack. "I just wanted to impress the man from Japan." she admits with a small voice.

And I shake my head, oddly refreshed and pleased. Why do people want to do these things? I hate everyone and everything equally. But she's just odd.

"Don't judge me!" she protests, her blue hair like a stream around her.

"I'm not," I say honestly.

"I feel like you are!" she squeaks. "Aren't you impressed at how naturally I held them?"

"No." I shake my head. "Your thumb and index finger were too close together."

She huffs into her rice and soy sauce and I laugh a bit.

 _I just wanted to impress the man from Japan_.

You already have... You already have. The stool and seat beside her suddenly doesn't seem so intimidating or cold. Hyuuga talks and eats and drinks her coffee while I look at the huge, ocean like table with her stuff piled everywhere and my backpack. Why does she have all these magazines?

She's not typical. Maybe atypical. She's the only person openly talking, openly eating and her stuff sprawled out everywhere.

I look at the compass that swings around only to point to her.

To Hyuuga Hinata. Hm. Not a bad route to go on. Or person to go to.

"You're capable, Hyuuga." I say, leaning in to look at her. She couldn't hear me the first time I called her name.

"Huh?" she asks softly, bashful with red cheeks. "Why do you call me 'Hyuuga'?"

"Uh." I feel heat on my face. I don't know her well enough to say her first name. "I like last names."

"Oh." she shrugs. "And you like mine. I'm honored. What were you saying before?"

I breathe in once again, to recover. I feel dumbly nervous. "Escort me around the school after first period." I nod.

There. I said it. I looked at the cloth of her sundress and back to the table.

She doesn't answer and when I focus on her, she swallows dryly. She furrows her brow. "We have second period then."

Class. Homework. Diseases from those things. Whatever. I want to throw my father's expectations to the dogs.

"And we'll be alone." she adds, her voice takes on a somber timbre.

"So? Don't you want to do it?" I narrow my eyes. "We might get in trouble. Are you up for that?"

She nods, partially red. "We have the compass, and you know, ambition and sneakiness. We'll sneak past the teachers and I'll get Tims. I think it's the start of a James Bond movie."

She laughs to herself and stops when she notices my confused smile. I couldn't ruin her joy or her clever jokes.

A wan, tired smile appears on her face. "You don't know... who James Bond is." she rubs her wrist. "I'll.. tell you all about him in the coming future."

I nod.

Hyuuga smiles after shovelling the rest of the sushi into her mouth.

"You're going to get lost on 17ave if I leave you alone," she says, closing her Bento box and clapping her hands together. "I'll go with you..."

She pauses. She doesn't remember my name. It probably wasn't in the magazine.

"Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke." I nod.

She smiles and ges more amused. "You intoduced yourself... Just like James Bond! Wow. Mr. Uchiha. I'll go with you."

She laughs and I catch a mischievous but innocent smile. Which should be sinless but it's innocent and pretty.

Her laughs sounds like a gunshot. Killing me nicely.

And after that, my life felt like a noir suspense movie. A James Bond one. Whoever he is.

No, this was the start of an indie one.

Indie movies have more love and less murder though her smile could leave a dead man happy.


	4. Her Friends

Thy Minjonet

* * *

Chapter 3  
Her Friends

Mr. Steiner comes back as we're trying to leave. He sees me and I see him and I look away. This cannot be happening. Why does bad shit happen when I am having- an I dunno, better time in my life? Hyuuga is as cool as a cucumber. She's standing there, eyes focused and standing close.

"Where are you two going?" Mr. Steiner asks.

"I'm showing Mr. Uchiha around," Hyuuga says, staring at her laced hands.

Mr. Steiner looks between the two of us then a sheepish expression appears on his face. "You just came from Japan. I didn't know you already had a girlfriend..." he points at me then laughs.

Hyuuga jumps four feet in the air. "I didn't. I don't. He isn't my- what?" Hyuuga says, looking at Mr. Steiner. Then at me. "You're not my- don't think that."

Mr. Steiner laughs a whole lot. He's so fucking embarrassing and honestly, he still doesn't understand.

"She's showing me to my locker," I protest.

Mr. Steiner watches me for a moment then bursts out laughing again. "Sure. A "locker". Ha, ha, ha." walks away.

He seemed cool like all adults do then they act like the worst people ever. He looks like a stupid caricature of Sylvester Stalone. Hyuuga is hyperventilating and holding her cheeks.

"Why are your cheeks so red?" I ask.

She drops her hands to her sides then brings them back to her cheeks. Almost slapping herself. "No- no reason." she looks up at me.

It lights up her face, like cherries or something on pure white vanilla ice cream. And that's weird. It's a pretty red. I look away a bit.

A question colors her voice. "What's a pretty red?"

I look over and the lockers just happen to be red. I reach out and pat them. "These lockers. Yeah. These lockers are nice. All the lockers in my school were- some ugly beige. It's a nice change of scenery."

Hyuuga calms down and looks away. She sounds nostalgic for some reason. "Japan must've been a nice place to live in."

Save. But so fucking lame.

"Yeah."

Hyuuga's eyes shine like almonds in a Masen jar with sunlight piercing through the gaps. "What do you miss about Japan?"

My family dynamic. The bullet trains. Not being the _stranger._ The warm toilet seats. Japanese. Katakana. Not panicking because of the unfamiliarity of everything. The lack of bread. The sincerity of life. The vending machines. Uniforms. The size of shops. Kabuto. The sweetness of tea and milk and fruit. Class representatives. The lack of eye contact.

The small talk that doesn't happen at cash registers. I hate small talk. I can't do it. The anime. Life. Kabuto. My mom and dad not fighting.

A lot of everything. I miss a lot of everything in ways I never knew existed or wanted to come into fruition. But I can't say that.

"Not much," I cough, wiping my nose with my hand.

She nudges my arm a little and I notice just how short she really is. Or how much taller I've gotten.

"You must notice one thing that throws you off," she says kindly, smiling a bit.

I look to the side. "It's easy to live here but so hard to be _alive_ here. The dollar shops aren't really a dollar and people hold the door here. They're friendlier."

Oh. You can see through the gap in washroom doors in public places. That's odd. The washroom toilet bowl has so much water. But I don't think a girl would want to hear about _any_ of that.

"Colored money is cool," I say neutrally.

She smiles and reaches into her backpack. She pulls out a gray wallet and floats over to a desk in the hallway, beside some class door.

I try to focus on her but someone is rolling down the hallway.

"Who is that guy?" I ask, watching a man who has a blue jumpsuit with a mop. And a bucket.

"The janitor," Hyuuga says, shocked that I am even asking.

"What? _Why_?"

"All schools have a janitor," she says, smiling. "Mr. Uchiha, didn't you know that?"

I try to play it cool but I just keep on staring. I thought it would be difficult for the students to clean such a massive school but apparently not. There are 2000 students. Wouldn't that make the school be as immaculate as it is now? Janitors _do_ the work.

"In Japan, students usually clean and do the work." I bring up.

"That's odd."

"To the staff, it builds character and keeps us responsible," I say, looking at the sparkle and cleanliness. "To the students, it seemed like free labor. And you know, made us not fuck with thw school property too much _._ "

We watch him pass by as Hyuuga nods to him. From western food- hamburgers, and steak, in this immigration country, they have school janitors. Odd.

She blinks and looks at her wallet. She gets a five dollar bill, a ten, twenty, fifty and finally a hundred dollar bill.

Just right there she has one hundred and eighty-five dollars. Even I don't carry around that much pocket change. What's wrong with her? The expression of England's Queen Ellie or something is grimacing, which mirrors my expression.

"Hyuuga..." I say lightly. "Why are you showing me _all this_?"

She puts the money in order of color scheme. "We have different colors, it's waterproof and when you scratch on the maple leaves on it, it smells like maple syrup!"

Oh. The joys of plastic, durable money. "Why do you carry around this _much_ money?"

"My dad wanted me to be prepared for lunch. He said the times are tough and I needed at least fifty dollars if I wanted to eat in downtown."

Wha- that's only for lunch? And her father gave it to her willingly? Itachi and I- no, actually, just me, I have to fight tooth and nail just to get five dollars. Then she has these coins. I remember they're pennies.

"What do you need with pennies?"

She flips it and looks at me intently. "Pennies are seen by our economy as practically useless. It stopped being manufactured way back but I still love them."

"It's the one cent that means the most to you?"

She nods. I sigh in relief. I thought I have to deal with a spoiled snob for two seconds. That made me _feel_ like laughing. She looks over and smiles a bit.

"Hang on, we're almost to the lockers," she says loudly.

Then, I hear ruckus and the heavy funk of cigarettes. I turn around and see such a pretty girl who was destined to have everything that she ever wanted. She was beautiful. Dimples and a cute, sugary voice took Sasuke into a trance. She had straight blonde hair that eased onto her shoulders, and all one blue eye that was hidden by her bangs.

I blink. Her hips and curves are developped and accentuated with the purple skirt that wraps around her legs. On her flat stomach hangs a shadow from her huge boobs.

She simply looks nothing less than perfect until she hits the guy beside her. He had ear piercings, wore all black and had spiky hair pulled back in a pony tail.

"You're the creep who stared at me for ages at the airport?! What is wrong with you?" The freak girl says.

I look at her then remember her. My mom was being annoying and holding onto my arm too tightly. She's the one I started at. I almost got _hard_ again, which was wrong but she's pretty. So fucking pretty.

"Ino, don't attack the new guy," A cool guy with smoke all around him says. He's been smoking?

"Everyone- where's _Sakura_?" Hyuuga asks Ino and the heavy chain-smoker.

"She's with Naruto. They went to Thai Thai, setting up for Temari's party."

Who's Temari? Why is she having a party on the first day of school. Japanese parties were awkward and blurry.

"Temari's having a party?" Hyuuga asks. Her eyes shift to the smoker. "Shikamaru, isn't she mad at you? Why are you going?"

Shikamaru sighs. "I just called her hairstyle weird. Why am I not invited?"

The two girls burst out laughing.

"You might be finished math 30 but you are so dull, my dear," Ino laughs and her rings, bracelets and everything clatter with the happy motions.

Ino loops her arm with Hyuuga, speeding away about something secretive that no man would understand.

They go ahead of us, talking about dumb shit. Ino got her nails done and Hyuuga nervously compliments her friend. Ino shuttles off into another topic. It's like she's shallow but Hyuuga is a champ for keeping up with such a vivacious teen.

"They're annoying, right?" Shikamaru leans beside me, watching my expression.

I shrug. Ino is.

"You dating Ino?" I ask, because the two girls are talking. I want to shut them out but they weren't exactly quiet or modest...

"Yeah. Since grade eight," he whistles.

"Grade eight? How'd you manage?"

"She can't control her emotions or impulses _and_ just like all women, she wants a lot of shit. However, it isn't too hard to like her when she isn't a ditz," Shikamaru whistles.

She comes over and punches his arm. "Aren't you the dumb one with a dumb ponytail and a dumb look on your face?"

"I wasn't the one who took grade two all over again!" Shikamaru slings an arm around her shoulders.

She shoves him. "I am not arguing with you about this!"

"You argue all the time. How about we talk about it?"

"None of that, Mr. Thesaurus. Before you pull up any other word out of your ass, just to let you know I'm..."

They falter off into some banter with years of annoyance and history layered with it. It makes me feel like I'm intruding on something private.

She's flushed and angrily pointing at him. He's leaning close and saying something perverse and provacative.

Hyuuga just sighs and I didn't notice her beside me. "Did she really re-do grade _2_?" I whisper.

"Yeah-"

Ino turns around and glares at Hyuuga. "Don't tell him _ANYTHING!"_

Hyuuga jumps at the sheer ferocity in that command.

Ino shoves Shikamaru, who is laughing. "Asshole! You always make me fucking look bad in front of new people!" Ino yells at Shikamaru.

"C'mon, you could never look bad, right?" Shikamaru crushes her cheek in a kiss.

She pushes away his chin. "Get off me, you smell like cigars!"

Shikamaru chuckles, like a satisfied man after getting what he wants. He raises his arms in surrender. They throw around some serious insults. Ino isn't afraid of hitting him and he likes to see her angry. At first, it seemed like Ino took all of the affection and demanded Shikamaru's attention.

Now that I look at it, it's swapped. Shikamaru shoved all of his affection to Ino and Ino was in love with it.

That's mighty fucked up. But eh, it's what they're into. It's been like this for almost three years. My judgment won't change it.

There are playful smiles coloring the somewhat healthy couple as Shikamaru

"Why'd you let her go first? Don't you hate being gentlemanly?"

"That's dehumanizing but I always let her go first," he smiles slyly. "I always have something to look at."

I laugh. Hyuuga eyes me funnily but I continue laughing. She falls into step with me, I don't why.

We get to the basement, which has many classrooms and lockers for the grade 10s.

Ino and Hyuuga shared a locker, squabbling about something. Then someone comes vaulting down the hallway. He's loud and obnoxiously wearing orange and black. He's the blonde kid who saw what happened with my old man.

We stare at each other a little.

Hyuuga steps in front of me. "This is Sasuke."

"Sasuke?" the kid squints. "You're the guy- oh. Heyyyya, the name's Naruto," he stands upright.

"Oh. Cool." I say.

"You talk funny," Naruto chuckles.

I step back. Of course I don't sound like a fucking native. They're all born in Canada, playing hockey and holding doors open for each other.

All of them glare at him and Ino smacks the back of Naruto's head. "Shut up! Have _some_ decency, you fool!"

"Ooow- Ino? Why are you always beating on me?" he demands. "He does talk funny!"

Shikamaru sighs and pulls Ino into his side. "You just say a lot of dumb shit."

"It's not right to _say_ things like that when you failed the last exams we did in grade 9!"

"You got the same score as me on the final!" Naruto protests with a groan.

"You don't even know good English!" Ino says, hitting him again. Shikamaru pulls her away even more.

They all pause and look at Ino.

"You don't even know good english?" Shikamaru repeats.

Naruto and company burst out laughing. Ino flushes and hides her face in Shikamaru. She presses her face into his shoulder. She's murmurring profanities and how embarassed she is and Shikamaru tries to soothe her.

Then she pushes away and positively screams, "Shut up! All of you!"

I don't understand. Why are they all laughing? What's wrong with her sentence?

Hyuuga nudges me. "I think you have a nice voice."

I look away quickly. What a weird thing to be complimented on. Holy fuck.

"I'm going to Tim Hortons to escape all of you embarassing, pervasive fiends," Ino says, her redness going down. She slams her locker door dramatically then huffs her bangs out of her face. "Goodbye!"

"Using long words doesn't make ya smarter, Ino!" Naruto calls out.

"Well, guess what, Naruto? Stupidity is your seconde language so buzz off!" Ino calls out and grabs Hyuuga when she

Shikamaru punches Naruto's arm.

"What?" Naruto protests.

"Now we have to deal with that mood for the entire week. Thanks for that, Naruto,"

They both sigh. "Shit."

I laugh. "Good job, Naruto."

He looks at me then laughs. "That'll be a you problem, Shikamaru." Naruto chuckled.

Hyuuga grabs my wrist when she gets dragged _by_ Ino's claws. I don't mind the pull.

We went to Tim Hortons instead of going to class.

We pretended we weren't grade 10s and went through the hallways. It was a maze.

Apparently, there are two Tim Hortons near here. One of them was at the bus stop near DQ and the other was near to A & W.

I wanted to go the one near A & W, since I didn't know what that restaurant was. They said if we were to go, then there wouldn't be enough seats for us to chillax in while we wasted away the period.

The Tim Hortons we were in was so _strange._ The Fielding's were high and everything was modern. The walls were a deep red, the smell of coffee was overpowering and the smell of something toasting was just as prevalent.

There were comfortable tables and cushions everywhere. There wasn't a line but apparently _there_ almost always it.

Tim Hortons is very much everywhere. I saw their wrappers and cups as trash floating by. We passed someone in school with their ice frappecinos.

Why were they drinking coffee in the middle of the day? It was burning outside and Hyuuga was in a sundress. Why does she want coffee?

Shikamaru and Ino share this chicken burrito wrap but Ino's on some diet so she doesn't eat 90% of what's inside the actual _food._ She eats the tiniest tomatoes slices and 40% of the lettuce.

Ino almost went for the whole wheat pita bread but found dressing on it. She didn't want to betray her diet so she abandoned the chicken, the cheese, the pita bread and some cucumbers. She gave the rest to Shikamaru, who was conditioned to think this was normal.

He ate and I just watched, my left eye twitching. She's so high-maintenance. Hyuuga ordered something for me since I couldn't pronounce the words _and_ paid for some reason.

The other guy Naruto wasn't even fazed by Ino's behavior. They all accepted it and her friends were really weird.

There's a fireplace and we choose a red table to sit at. Shikamaru and Into sit together, Ino on his lap while he finished off the burrito and she tapped away on her phone.

Naruto sits to Hyuuga's left.

Hyuuga and I sit on beside each other. Her knee hits mine occasionally because of the ill-planned seating plan but she doesn't notice. She's too busy beaming.

I sit in front of my coffee, debating whether or not to drink it. I mean, I am not Canadian. I don't go for coffee in the middle of the September heat and eat those weird Timbits or whatever. They looked like falafel balls but sugary and _filled_ with jelly.

They all watch me as I stare at the yellow and red card board box with handles filled with the treats.

This is starting to get weird.

"What?" I ask.

They all laugh.

Canadians laugh too god damned much.

Hyuuga, beside me, nudges my arm. "Well, won't you try your first Timbit?"

Ino looks at the little ball, her tall nose upturned. "They are disgusting but it's tradition." Hinata sends her a dark look and she shrugs. "But- _but_ we eat them all the time. Not all the time. It's a Canadian food, like poutine."

"Poutine?"

"Yeah! It's french fries covered in _gravy_!"

"Why would anyone want to eat that?"

"You guys in Japan eat all sorts of crazy stuff. You told me raw eggs mixed in with _rice isn't bad._ Dude, you can get so many diseases from that!" Naruto calls out.

Oh shut up, Naruto. "Hey! It's not bad. If you want to be simple and insult Japanese cuisine, you haven't have tasted ramen-"

All of them burst out laughing. We're the only rambunctious group. Naruto looks at me like I am a God and the rest are wiping away years.

The other Canadians send glares to us.

"What?"

Naruto scratches the back of his neck. "Ero-sennin or my old man Jiraiya _and I_ like ramen. I have ramen for lunch right now."

Pervert?

Shikamaru raises an eyebrow. "Like ramen? You eat yourself into obsession."

Naruto laughs cheekily.

"He should show up on TLC." Ino intones.

They all have another round of laughter. I learn over to Hyuuga. "What's TLC?"

"Oh! It's the learning channel. Ino and I watch Say Yes To The Dress and 90 Day Fiancée on it. You can also find really interesting characters on that channel, as well. Naruto might belong there too."

Naruto wilts a bit. "Hinaaaataa! Be on my side! Miso ramen's good for you! Besides, what other food gives ya protein an' nutrients an' vitamins at the same time?"

"Almost every other one," Ino rolls her eyes, shifting on Shikamaru. "Babe, I'm getting a double-double, want something?"

Double-double what? What? All this shit I don't get.

He nods. "Get me the same as you."

Ino pats his heada before turning to order something.

Ino is at the counter, speaking harshly to the cashier about having soy milk instead of cream. Shikamaru is twirling around this odd pen with smoke coming out of it. Naruto and Hyuuga are talking about a show.

Now none of them are watching me, which is good. They are so damn weird.

Hyuuga laughs loudly. I wonder if I could make her laugh but Naruto is squinting his eyes and she's covering her mouth, her giggles still falling out in between those cracks.

He shouldn't make her laugh _too_ much.

I want to intervene but I just stare at the timbits. When everyone is engaged in their own little thing, I shovel one into my mouth.

It tastes like a crepe, a strawberry one with a burst of doughy sweetness followed by it drying out in my mouth. It isn't too bad. It was mediocre and tasted meh but it wasn't too bad. I continue chewing.

Then I'm in the process of taking a second one but Hyuuga snaps a photo.

She laughs and Naruto's in line bothering Ino about her diet and laughing at her attempts to shoo him away. He just won't budge. Judging by how irritated Ino is and how Shikamaru stepped in between the two blondes

We were alone.

And she was watching me sneak some timbits like a theif.

"Mr. Uchiha," her eyes brighten up. "How was it?"

The chaos around me is loud. I hate how nice everyone is and how weirdly attuned Hyuuga is to me but I shrug. The lifestyle, the coffee, the people can be hard to get used to but it's whatever.

"Good. It was," I swallow, getting out the truth. " _Good."_

Hyuuga laughs. "Glad you liked it," she pushes the timbits closer to me. "Eat up. They're nutritional and _cheap_."

She starts rattling off about all these other places she wants to take me. The wright of the compass becomes heavier and heavier. We are peacefully chatting until the slap of something hit someone.

Naruto cries out and Shikamaru is blocking Ino from hitting the guy again.

Hyuuga sends me a small smile. "I guess they finally did it. We aren't staying here for long."

I look over at them and the sorry blush on Hyuuga's face. "This happens often, right?"

She hangs her head. "In the ghettos by Forest Lawn, in Aspen or in 7/11, those two could start a fight." She stretches her lips into a smile and tugs on my sleeve. "Come on before the cops come."

After being left out of the dispute, Hyuuga laughs and tells me about the different pep rallies and debate teams Western has. We stand on the curb, near the bus stop while Naruto and Ino are scolded by Shikamaru. Now we're kicked out of this Tim Hortons.

Hyuuga's shoulder and my shoulder touch as we share the box of timbits, ignoring her friends' squabbling.

The traffic wooshes by and the metal of the wall is pretty cool against my back. It smells like laundry and sunshine. Clean.

Hyuuga keeps on apologizing for her idiot friends, which is a Canadian thing but I don't tell her to stop. Her friends... are rude and loud. They remind me of my friends laughing, smoking, causing hell in the back streets with money to burn.

I like her friends.


	5. Greens

**Thy Minjonet**

* * *

Chapter 4  
GREENS

The box of Timbits was soon being discarded by Hyuuga. We stand by Ino's locker. I wonder how she already had it decorated. There's a picture of Shikamaru in it with purple accenting everything. I thought she was a princess but purple is her colour.

As Shikamaru and Naruto discuss something about how he's in math 15 this semester, I look at Hyuuga.

"Does Temari always have parties?" I ask.

"Yeah. Her father lives in Ottawa for six months of the year as a senator. Their house, in our friend group, is party central. Their uncle takes care of them. He's visiting their father back in Japan. They're alone for the next four days."

I wanted a party. Itachi would probably rat me out or something. Fuck.

"Perfect opportunity to have a party." I intone.

"Almost astronomically so." Hyuuga laughs. "Their nannies and maids will clean everything up tomorrow."

"Nannies, huh," I say lightly.

I used to have nannies. Mom is a lawyer working for my dad until she basically got kicked out by execs because Dad and Mom fought way too much and it got in the way of work. The community's whole balance got thrown off by their quarrels.

Them fighting, maybe I was a psychopath, was funny since they had passive-aggressive jabs at each other. She wouldn't iron his suit so there were white marks for detergent and creases. The toothpaste wouldn't be squeezed properly. Sometimes, they would throw jabs and clap backs that improved my day.

Now, that I am older, I realize this wasn't a joke and yeah, they're damaging each other. It wasn't a comedy like I thought...

It was almost funny when I was a kid but their fights almost caused a market crash and a divorce.

Mom's gotten a job and now she's always out of the house. It's nicer that I can't hear her plethora of colourful insults and complaints about Canada. However, I still like to see her every once in a while.

I look back at Hyuuga. "Why on the first night of school?"

It's a fucking Tuesday. That kills the mood.

"You have to start high school, responsibly, right?" Hyuuga gives a nervous smile. "What is more responsible than alcohol and partying?"

I just have to laugh and shrug. "Trashing the house."

"That takes the cake," Hyuuga smiles.

She looks younger when she smiles.

"You promise that you're going to the party, right? I'll send you the address."

My brain short circuits for a little. I pull a blank. She's giving me her phone number? Is it this easy in America?

Normally, it's a long and painfully hard process to get a girl's phone number. They're so cryptic and confusing. They say one thing then mean another and they burst out crying or laughing.

Were girls naturally flirty? Friendly? Were they just not interested in me at all? And they go to the bathroom together. Why do they do that?

In Japan, I call it the cock waiting game because girls were too modest and separated from guys to actually make a move or be front with their feelings. And us guys have to do a lot of unnecessary shit just to make sure that they aren't constantly surrounded by wolfish best friends.

They are always in a group and it intimidates me. Everyone.

And here, it's so easy. Hyuuga is making this easy.

She smiles nervously. "Eh, did I say something wrong?"

I snap out of my daze and focus on her. "Huh? Can you repeat what you last said?"

"I want your phone number. So we could text you. I'll add you to a group chat."

I don't trust my brain or words so I fish my phone out of my pocket and enter the password.

"You do have an iPhone, right?"

I nod. "Why, is that a problem?"

"No, just checking. I want to face time you," Hyuuga blushes a bit. "If that's alright..."

I take a moment to just pause. That's more than alright.

She gives me her contacts and I give her mine and we just stand there for a moment. I don't know why I am acting so weird, since we exchanged numbers.

Maybe I'm just awkward like that.

"Naruto, why don't you act your age?!" Ino demands.

"I am acting my age," Naruto responds with a mocking tone.

"Your REAL age, dipshit!"

Naruto gives a belly laugh and I kinda feel bad for Ino. Shikamaru is also sighing. Since their hair is bright and blonde, they seem like siblings.

"How long have they known each other?" I ask Hyuuga.

"Almost their entire lives." Hyuuga laughs. "That's why every little thing they do annoys each other. Like siblings."

Itachi wasn't like that. He was actually a nice guy when he wasn't being weird. He never hit me. Notwithstanding, I do remember annoying him a lot.

"They are quite annoying by themselves, though." I sigh. Why'd they have to be so loud?

"Yeah, but isn't it cool. All that history?" Hyuuga smiles.

Hm. History? Call it unresolved anger instead.

She opens her mouth to say something.

Then, she turns around. In that little twirl, I get distracted by her smooth, shapely thigh that I almost fail to notice how GREEN she looks.

She calmly walks over to the nearest trash can and proceeds to throw up. Her snags of hair were brushed away by Ino running over.

Everyone is in full panic mode as I just stand there in the hallway, looking at how all of her friends swarm her.

They're all really concerned and all I could do is watch.

Why did she throw up? Was it because of me?

Oh god, am I that repulsive?

"What's wrong?" I ask.

No one answers me. They all seem super worried and they exchange knowing glances.

In the next twenty minutes, she's getting into a limo parked by Starbucks and we're all watching the scene through the main entrance.

"That was sad," Ino whispers, chewing on her bottom lip.

How does this girl ooze sex?

Shikamaru settles his chin on Ino's forehead. She demanded to be in his arms and wrapped him around her. As if pretending to be a safety blanket, Shikamaru calmly soothes her.

"Why'd she have to go home?" I ask uncertainly.

Naruto settles beside me. "She's not s'posed to be at school. She's got some conditions, too-"

"For once in your life, shut up Naruto!" Ino shouts.

"What? He has to know!"

"You don't go around tell other people's secrets!"

"Hinata likes him and I like him too. And he's probably real worried, look at him. He's almost a hundred now," Naruto nudges my arm.

Ino relents.

Shikamaru laughs. Laughs.

I look over, surprised to notice that they're all caught in a glaring contest. Hyuuga hasn't the energy to keep up with these bozos. They all take tremendous energy to stay around. No wonder she is collected and calm. They already have crazy characteristics. Hyuuga tries hard not to be absorbed by it.

"So, is Hyuuga going to be fine?" I ask, prodding them out of their glares.

"Yeah," Naruto coughs. "We won't let anything happen to her."

Ino nods. "She's being taken care of. Too bad we all got caught."

I sigh. Yeah.

"Hey, Naruto? Why were you running?" I ask Naruto because he's sulking profusely.

Naruto laughs. Again.

And he's back to normal. "I was vaping in the bathroom. One of the gym teachers found me and he doesn't remember me but that was close."

"Try a cigarette like a real man," Shikamaru rolls his eyes.

"Real men don't cough out their lungs during exams," Naruto scoffs. "You were real loud, man. It made me fail the exam!"

Ino knocks Naruto on the nape of his neck. "That's just because there's nothing in there."

Naruto runs behind me and uses me as a meat shield. "You're sixty-five percent boobs, Ino. You don't have much else."

"Wimp! Fight me and see what else I'm made up of!" calls Ino from behind Shikamaru.

"No thanks!" Naruto retorts.

They're a bunch of five-year-olds. Hyuuga is sick but she's wise. She got out of here first.

Shikamaru and my eyes meet. We shake our heads and he tries to kiss his girlfriend while I just knock Naruto on the forehead.

"Ow, man!" Naruto calls out. "Why does everyone always hit me?"

Because he's a damn fool but he reminds me of Yamamoto from Japan. And that was cool. Ino is straining against Shikamaru to rip Naruto to shreds with her fake nails while I shake my head at the kid.

"Sixty-five percent?" I repeat. "You could have said sixty-nine. Missed opportunity."

Naruto watches me for a moment before slinging an arm around my shoulders. "You are my favourite now! Oi, Shikamaru! He's my best friend now!"

Shikamaru doesn't seem too jealous. He's not bothered at all. And Naruto's beaming. I just find it inside of myself to smile a bit. Who declares someone they just met as their best friend?

Either way, I'm glad there's at least one person.

School was over. Naruto invites me to his house to play video games. I said why the hell not because Itachi wasn't going to drive me and I wanted to know how Naruto lived. Now... we're here. I didn't expect him to be, like, rich. Loaded as urban dictionary told me. I thought his family was poor and that's why he acted out.

But fuck that.

His house is grand, like my house, just coloured with more Japanese accents. Lines and messy writing marks the wall. Height marks. There are childhood art from craft time and lots of family photos. It is a kingdom of wood and homey smells of rice. There are less lights, no heaters but it's warmer in a sense. I don't know why.

Nothing is perfect. Not all the shoes are put away. There is the TV with its fuzzy soundtrack. There are dishes and something is burnt. It was cooked and burned. It's the opposite from the copper-smelling gray factory of my home.

There are paper doors, a koi pond on the third floor and the garage has 11 luxury cars. There are awards on the walls, pictures, high ceilings, and floors that warm up. It's more like an odd ensemble of memories while mine looks like a page from a home catalogue.

It's messy and weird; there are statues of naked women everywhere. Nipples and everything. One of them doesn't have a whole upper body. Just half of the calves. It's morbid.

We rounded a corner and now we're greeted by this serial killer scene. "What the hell?" I whisper.

There are stage lights on it, too. And I can't look at the statue.

Naruto claps me on the back and pushes me off balance. I almost fall pressed my chest into her boobs.

The statue almost tips over and I'm scrabbling just not to break it. With the laughing from Naruto, I know the prick shoved me on purpose. I set her- it upright and shoot him a glare.

"Have ya met Tsubana?" he half-yells.

I look at the statue. "Tsubasa? Why's it here?" I look between him and the stony stone of Tsubana.

"That's courtesy of my dad. He needs it for "research" but I'm pretty sure he uses my mom for that." he shrugs. Naruto's already gotten used to it. Accepted Tsubana.

"Who's your dad?" I ask cautiously.

"A loser."

"Huh?"

"He's super dumb." Naruto shrugs again.

I chuckle. "So, that's on his birth certificate?"

Naruto sighs. "Jiraiya. He's super old. I call him ero-sennin. I don't know why Mom married him though."

"Mom?" I look at the naked statue. Tsubasa's sleek and pure marble. Heavily detailed with creases and curves. "Is she okay with this?"

"Hell no!" Naruto rocks on his heels, brightening up just like his hair. "She hates it. Isn't that awesome?"

Naruto pauses. "Yeah, there used to be two. But I broke her twin, another one. "

"Go figure," I mumble under my breath. A bunch of statues and corners of furniture have scratches and missing pieces.

"Oi! It wasn't completely my fault!" Naruto rolls his eyes. Then he tips his chin up to the ceiling and roars; "IT WAS SAKURA-CHAN'S FAULT!"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING, NARUTO-GAKI?!" Someone shouted.

I look up from the thundering voice from above like God striking fear into me. I hear the shake of books and pens in my backpack when I stop in my track. Who was that?!

"WHY YOU ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?" Naruto yells back. Completely unfazed.

He raises the decibel levels. Why is he yelling in the house- especially a whoever Sakura is? Why are they screaming? Why are they so obnoxious and loud?

"STOP BEING LOUD. I'M CREATING A NEW SCRIPT FOR THE ORIENTATION." The loud female voice plays out. It's strained, uproarious and bubbly. It has 'mom' energy, the nagging and the complaint too.

"IGNORE ME. LEAVE ME ALONE!" Naruto rolls his eyes.

"DO NOT GIVE ME ATTITUDE, NARUTO SENJU-UZUMAKI!"

Oh. Yeah. It's his mom. The realization dawns on me. He's actually yelling at his mom. Holy shit. He's yelling at his mother.

"MOOOOM! I'M WITH FRIENDS. BEGONE." groans Naruto.

"Friends?" she said, halting in her tone.

"YEAH!" Naruto squinted.

"SOMEONE TOLERATES YOU OUTTA THE FAMILY, MY BOY?" She laughs a bit. "OH, HONEY, THERE ARE FRIES ON THE TABLE! ORDER PIZZA. JUST SHUT UP AND WAIT FOR SHIZUNE-"

"SHIZUNE IS WITH HER BOYFRIEND! DID YOU KNOW THAT HE TOOK DAD'S SMOKES? HE STOLE SILVERWARE TOO!"

The mother and son both have identical waves of torrid rage coming off of them.

"I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" the mother says.

Naruto grins, chaotic evil. Oh. That was a lie. Too bad she didn't know that. He did though.

Naruto then looks up, neck craned at an odd angle. "OH! DID YOU GET THE IMPORTED NOODLES? "

"COURSE. BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU ORDER IT?"

"DAD TOOK MY CARD. AND THE ONES HE ORDERS TASTE LIKE DOG CRAP!"

She laughs. Again. "DON'T BREAK STUFF, ALRIGHT MY BOY? PROMISE ME."

He crosses his arms and starts to sulk a whole bunch. "THAT WASN'T MY FUCKIN' FAULT, MOM!"

"DON'T CURSE IN MY DAMN HOUSE, GAKI! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL? ALL MY KIDS, DAMN TEMPERS! ARGH!"

"I WONDER who I got it from."

"NARUTO!"

"FINE! I'M STRAIGHT, 'KAY?!"

A smile is also in her voice. "LOVE YOU! NOW LEAVE ME ALONE, ALRIGHT, GAKI?"

Naruto brushes off the words, he's straightening his cuffs. I am in shock at how casually their conversation was; from cigars, to swear words, to yelling through the levels. What a family.

I blink and swallow. Fuck. That must have been weird for him. "Is that how you communicate?"

"Yep." he looks confused. Then he grins and scratches the back of his neck, cheeky. "People tell me it's weird and dysfunctional, isn't it?"

Despite the sad words, he lights up and it doesn't seem that sad whatsoever. He's rocking, like a swing, jovial and happy. What is up with Canadians and their lax culture?

The volume and openness of their conversation feels like a weight off of my chest.

"Everyday? You talk like this every day?" I press.

His facial expression goes slack. "What? Aw fuck, now you're lookin' at me like I got a problem-"

I look at the ceiling. The smoke from incense and boards, feeling their voices rattling in my bones. "Nah. That's a real conversation with a parent." I shake my head.

I could never dream to yell at my mom like this. Westerners are so weird. They make fusses. A lot of fusses. But his mother doesn't mind his fusses. She lets him explode while my mother just quieted the explosion, instead of visiting what caused the bomb to blow.

"MOM! WE'RE GOING TO PLAY VIDEO GAMES IN THE THEATRE. FORTNITE, KAY?" Naruto informs her.

"KAY," she yells back. "OH, HELLO NARUTO'S FRIEND. MY HOME IS YOURS. DID YOU SHOW HIM THE "ART", NARUTO?"

"COURSE, MOM!" he grins, laughing.

"DAMN IT, NARUTO!"

And the presence was gone, leaving Naruto independent. He keeps on laughing.

I am confused about how he had the balls to actually yell at his parent. He's probably going to suffer two possible deaths; one from his mom and one from his dad. I look at the naked form in the hallway. Maybe not.

Mom and I get along better than er, Dad and I, because of her quitting her job when she got pregnant with me. It's some odd show of status in Japan, to say that your husband is rich enough to support the family and to quit your job during pregnancy.

I remember not having a lot of babysitters until Dad came back from the USA. I never had a babysitter or maids, actually, since Mom wanted to be the perfect house-wife. She wanted the responsibilities. She wanted the control but the houses got bigger and bigger since dad had way more money.

That grew, along with the workload, and the smiles were smaller. I thought it was bizarre.

It's kind of shameful, to have a babysitter and maids in Japan since the neighbours are so fucking noisy. Neighbours might see and they'll tell someone else and a gossip train of crap would go out in full steam.

Here. It's normal. It's a trope. It's status. I wonder what else is different about home life.

The banter and loud sounds are so different from my home. There's noise. People. Conflict in a good way. It's casual, casual, casual. It smells like authentic Japan, too. Sounds of Meijiro birds in the background, kinmokusei fragrance everywhere and there are dry matcha leaves near the doorway.

I pause on future giving of affection. How the hell do they do this? And act so casual? Now they're exploiting my fears of not having a fucking normal family?

"Dude, you zone out and shit, makes me think you have a problem with my family. I get it, though," Naruto looks back at me and my stillness. "Yea. We're weird." he scratches his ear.

Ah. He thinks I'm judging them. I couldn't. I shake my head. "Your family's awesome."

He rolls his eyes. "My dad writes porn for a living and I got two sisters. They're idiots."

"You the youngest?" I ask, hoping for some reason.

"Yeah." he sighs. "It's annoyin', man."

"Me too."

"Huh?" he scrunches up his expression.

"I'm the youngest." I nod.

"Any sisters?" Naruto asks me, wanting to complain some more.

"My brother likes yoga." I shrug.

Naruto burst out laughing. It's loud and obnoxious, like him and his family. And that's good. Really good.

"We have two hours to kill before Temari's house party. You play fortnite before?" Naruto demands.

"Hell yeah. I'll kick your ass." I grin then I look at him a bit. "Why do you hate your sister's boyfriend?"

"Oh. It's fun. Shizune scared off my last girls, too." he grins back at me. "Don't you think I should return the favour?"

A prankster. Ha. What a man. As we settle down and log into his x-box, he throws me a pair of headphones and we play. I sink into the plush of the couches and stare at the ceiling. I feel warm. This place is warm and normal, despite how much Naruto denies it.

Is my family normal? What the hell is ever normal?

Later on, Itachi looks at me from across the sleek table. I cornered him in the kitchen, as he was drinking some protein shake. He's still in his soccer wear and his cleats make dents on the floor.

"You want me to drive you?" he asks, slowly returning his dumb drink.

"Yeah. How hard is that?" I demand.

"You know that Dad will freak out once he knows you're at a party?"

"Fuck Dad. He wanted me to fit in."

It's not about what you want, is it? Those words fill me with bitterness. Of course, it's about what I fucking want. I want to go to that party. I want to enjoy life. I want to get away.

We actually see Dad staring at using an annoyed expression. He looks like a bat, leaning on the door frame.

"You're going to have to tell your mother that the car is dented." His cold business eyes roam my face. "Sasuke? What have you done?"

A black lightning of cold pierces my heart. "Me? What the hell? Why do you think I broke the door?"

"I thought it was only dented. Why is it broken?"

"It isn't broken-"

"Then explain the situation!"

"You know what, fine, assume that I am the one who fucked up! You always do that anyway!"

His mouth purses into a line. "Two weeks. Grounded."

Me? Why me?

"I don't do anything anyway. There's wi-fi here too."

"Fine. No driving!"

"Yeah, that's how you want to play it? I don't want to drive. I can't drive or you can't remember that shit either?!"

He takes a breath to compose himself. "Just go tell your mother and we'll decide on a punishment later."

"She's your wife!"

"She's your mother!"

"So what? You drive over and tell her-"

"I don't want to deal with you right now. I want a quiet house. Don't come back until 11 at the latest."

"You're the literal worst! A bastard!" I growl.

He shakes his head. "You-"

Itachi stops me and dad from yelling the roof off and roughly grabs my arm. We get tugged out of the house and into the car that has the dent.

I glare at the sleek leather interior and the mirror from the passenger's side. The roads push by and I sigh every two seconds. There's just something intensely wrong with that asshole.

If he just quit with his dumb assumptions, maybe people could stand him. Why does he think he's God? Even in Japan, his word wasn't questioned. We weren't sheep. We weren't even meant to listen to him all the time!

Itachi draped his wrist over the steering wheel, not looking at me.

"You need to get along with him," Itachi says softly.

"Shut up," I snap with venom. All of this was caused by him and his stupid impulses.

But I knew he was right. Why I did I have to sit in the dull success Itachi pulled and all of the damn failures he drives up on Mom and Dad? It's ridiculous.

"I won't be around to make you both not kill each other," he tells me sternly.

"Don't worry. When you're gone, I'm gone."

He looks at me, stunned then he relaxes. Laughing. "I can't take you to my university."

"Why not?" I demand.

Why can't he save me? What the fuck?!

He laughs a bit. "There's the Toronto University called Western. I've seen it. Big campus. You're just a number. If you live in residence, then there's no guarantee you'll be able to eat, sleep or do work comfortably. One of the buildings is called "The Zoo". There's so much partying and drugs that the students are animals by the end of the semester. Some guys that I know spit out teeth."

"What, did the douche get punched?" I ask, chuckling.

Itachi stops at the red light. "No. This twenty-one-year-old... He got scurvy."

"Scurvy?" I wince. "What the hell is that?"

"It's the condition where you don't get enough vitamin C from fruits and vegetables that your teeth fall out and your muscles become slush."

I start cringing and laughing. How sad.

"Yeah. Scurvy. They lived off of ramen noodles and beer." Itachi continues.

I laugh and laugh. Fucking scurvy.

"Do you really want to live the life of a poor college student?" Itachi asks.

"You won't be poor. None of us could never be poor." Then I realize. "Dad isn't paying for your university, huh?"

Itachi keeps his eyes on the road. "Unless I do what he wants."

"Do you really want to do that?"

Itachi nods.

"You let up, man." I roll my eyes. "Have you seen what's going on between Dad and Mom? She's barely home and Dad is the worst!"

"You guys just haven't found something to talk about."

"Why would I talk to him?"

"I don't care about business and money. He wants that for me. I don't care about that, man. Are you going into business?" I tilt my head to the side.

"Yeah. What else would I be doing?" Itachi asks nonchalantly.

"Why?" I scoff.

A peaceful, giving smile settles on his lips. "You'll understand when you get older."

I roll my eyes. He's a crowd-pleaser. Why would he fall to the clutches of Dad and business when he could be free?

Soon enough, we get to Mom's workplace. It's a boring building. It sticks with the brown brick and mortar design with beige blinds behind the eerily square windows.

Even the architects in Calgary are boring, huh? Do adults not know creativity. Yeah, they wouldn't know creativity, even if it pissed in their coffee... I walk ahead as we go inside. No surprise there.

I hate adults. I'll never become like them.


End file.
